


Your Accent Is Funny [France/Francis Bonnefoy]

by Zuliet



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3521567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuliet/pseuds/Zuliet





	Your Accent Is Funny [France/Francis Bonnefoy]

“Be – Our – Guest! Be our guest! Put our service to the test! Tie your napkin around your neck Cheri and we provide the rest!” you sang in a bad French accent as you danced around the kitchen making sweets and drinking wine. Francis hated ‘The Beauty and the Beast.’ Every time you watched it he would pout and whine ‘I do not sound like that!’ Although you were convinced he kind of sounded like Lumiere. Usually Antonio and Gilbert were over and would laugh at him. So, while he was out with the boys you decided to have a little you time – and try to figure out how to tell him you were pregnant. Sure, maybe wine wasn’t the smartest thing but the baby was craving sweets. “You know, your daddy’s accent is kind of funny. _‘Oh Mon Amour, I love you so so much!’_ ” You mocked, rubbing your stomach. You chuckled and continued to dance.

It was an hour or so later, you had rewound and replayed the old VHS tape that held ‘The Beauty and the Beast’ and were once again dancing to ‘Be Our Guest,’ when you heard the front door open.

“Oh _Mon Amour_!” called a voice as it trailed through the living room.

“In ze kit-chen! Ohononon!” you mocked in a French accent.

“Are you drunk?” questioned Francis entering the kitchen. “Because I’d think you’re mocking me if I didn’t know any better.”

“Doez zit sound like I am mocking you?” you laughed, taking another swig of wine.

“Eh – kind of.” You smirked at your husband, then place your cup down and skipped over to him.

“Zhen I probably am.” Now your accent was turning German, so you turned your attention back to the TV where your movie was playing. “You know, Francis, I shouldn’t even be drinking this wine right now!”

“A-And why iz zhat?” he asked, slowly walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. You laughed heartily,

“Because it’s no good for the baaayyy-beeee,” you sang, swirling a little wine around in your glass, this caused Francis to turn you around.

“Zh-Zhe baby?!” You smiled and nodded proudly as you placed your hands on your hips.

“Yep! I’m pregnant! I already told the other two blathering idiots! They about pissed themselves in shock!” you laughed. You saw the colour drain from Francis’ face as he fell to the ground in shock. After a moment he was slightly coherent, but you could hear him muttering: ‘I’m going to be a daddy?’ over and over again. Then he looked up at you,

“You’re pregnant?! Why did you tell Antonio and Gilbert but not me?” whined Francis from his spot on the floor as he tugged on the hem of your shirt. Tears ran down his face, but you knew they were fake. He did that often when he felt dejected.

“Because I knew you’d act like this!” you growled, walking over to sit on a kitchen chair with the wine bottle in your hand. Francis followed, crawling behind you like a child. You sat with your legs stretched out in front of you, slouching your back against the chair. Francis knelt between your legs with his arms around your middle, his head gently resting on your stomach.

“Iz et mine?” he asked, you found this an extraordinarily stupid question.

“Of course it’s yours, dumbass. Do you really think I’d let anyone else fuck me?” you spat, roughly hitting him on the head with the wine bottle. France started to fake cry again as he looked up at you.

“You know, you are really mean when you are drunk,” he whined, you smirked at him then tackled him in a hug on to the floor.

“You didn’t marry me because I was nice, Francis Bonnefoy!” you teased as you sat up and placed your butt on the floor between his splayed legs. “Of course, I’m not really sure why you married me. I’m not pretty, or funny, or spunky or skinny or –” Francis kissed you to shut you up, then picked you up and carried you off to your bedroom where your drunk ass could sleep off the alcohol. Francis carefully laid you under the covers, and then crawled under himself. He lay pressed against your back with a hand over your waist,

“You know...you were wrong, ______,” Francis said quietly, resting his face on your arm. “I did marry you because you were pretty.  Zhe more I’m with you, zhe more beautiful you get and zhe more I fall in love wizh you.”

“My friends say love isn’t real. It’s just the need to procreate,” you grumbled, this caused France to sigh.

“If love isn’t real, zhen why does my heart race when I’m around you, hm? Why do I not want to be wizh anyone but you? If love isn’t real zhen – what iz zhis feeling I get in my chest? Do I get heart palpitations every time I lay eyes on you? I zhink not. This is love, _Mon Amour.”_ You giggled, your hazed mind finding his voice absurdly funny at the moment. “What?”

“Your voice just now, you were so serious!” you laughed, then mocked his accent. “ _‘Mon Amour.’_  Your accent is so funny!”

“What?! You zhink my accent iz funny?!” he whined, “and after all I just told you! You are so mean to me!”

“You didn’t marry me because I was nice, darlin’,” you chuckled, “I love you.” This stopped Francis’ whining and he stared at you for a moment before a soft smile crept across his lips.

“I love you, too.” He kissed your shoulder and then the side of your head contently before resting his head on the pillow next to yours. “I married you because you are beautiful. Because you are funny. Because you are kind. Because you are perfect. You make me feel whole. Zhis baby will complete our perfect family.”

“Hmmm,” was all you could manage to muse before you fell asleep, wrapped in Francis’ arms.

 

 

 ~


End file.
